All the wrong reasons
by soverylazy11
Summary: "War God Bakugou Katsuki. Because you directly interfered in human affairs while causing mass murder and destruction, there has been an unanimous vote to cast you out. Until further notice, you are exiled from Heaven. You will be stripped of your property and your Regalia." (Noragami Fusion)
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: My Hero Academia is not mine, Horikoshi made it. Noragami is not mine, Adachitoka made it. This fanfiction is mine. But just curious, since I'm using the world in Noragami and the characters in MHA, is that a fusion or a crossover? Technically none of the characters from either side will meet in this, so I'm guessing it's a fusion?

* * *

 _Don't you know? You're a god of war._

 _'Why?'_

 _As expected of a war god!_

 _'But I killed them instead of restraining them.'_

 _'You are fitting for a god of war.'_

 _'Is that a good thing?'_

 _Bakugou, what are you doing with that little girl! I knew war gods couldn't be trusted!_

 _'She just bumped into me and fell and started crying.'_

 _Damn war god. Half of my shrines got destroyed because of that war. You. Caused!_

 _'What?'_

 _Why don't you just go to the Underworld! I'm sure they would love you!_

 _'Why don't you eat shit and drop dead?'_

 _Go die in a ditch or something._ _The world would be better off without you._

' **FUCK OFF!'**

* * *

Bakugou suddenly woke drenched in cold sweat. He sat up and his eyes focused on the digital alarm clock in his room. The glowing red numbers on it read '4:02'.

"Dammit."

He groaned and fell back onto the pillow.

* * *

'Gods were perfect,' They said, 'they could do no wrong.' They said.

'Gods are there to make the world a better place.'

If gods were so perfect, then why did he feel like a failure every time he did something?

One moment he would cackle with excitement over the oppressive forces being killed by rebel leaders.

Another moment the gods would look at him with disdain and mumble under their breath. Either that or outright yell at him.

One moment he could be jumping in to help soldiers get back to their families, guiding refugees, fulfilling the wishes of anyone who came to his shrines at any cost.

The other moment he would be looked down on by the others for 'causing mass murder and destruction while interfering with human affairs'.

One moment he was in heaven, being respected (or feared).

The next moment he was dragged away from his home, got his property and Regalia taken from him, and exiled from heaven 'until further notice'.

Now here he was, sleeping in one of the few shrines he had on earth, having to get clothes from a _charity_ of all things, and having no Regalia to defend himself from phantoms. He had to hide in the sacred ground of his shrines so the phantoms couldn't go near him. And in the morning, he got shooed out by the custodians. Taken out of his own shrine.

A few months ago, he would have cussed the stress away, but cussing now just seemed to make the problem worse.

His life was like a game of limbo. How low can he go? Currently, he's pretty sure he's broken his old record.

Well, at least it was morning. Fresh new start and all. Maybe he could get a regalia. Or get a job. Gods may not need to eat, but he needed something better than these ratty clothes. And maybe some breath mints or something.

He's not going to give heaven the satisfaction of seeing him wither away into a dirty street bum.

"Are you hiring? I'd like," He gritted his teeth and averted his eyes. "To be one of your chefs."

The waitress looked almost too tired to even answer his question. After a minute of staring, he just gave up and stormed out. If one looked closely, tendrils of smoke could be seen wafting from him.

 _'How could I forget. Humans can barely notice us gods.'_

Well that was all for nothing.

 _I used to be a fucking majestic god of war. Now I can't even work at a shitty restaurant?_

* * *

A purple mass slowly followed him. It was striped in garish colors, but no one in the restaurant showed signs of noticing it.

 **"SmElLs... nIcE."**

Its grotesque features morphed into a smile. Eyeballs were sticking literally everywhere except where it should be and they were varying shades of red and neon green. One could describe the form resembling a blob, or a spider.

 **"VeRy, vEry niCe."**

Bakugou's head jerked up and his back straightened from his characteristic slouch. And then he broke into a sprint.

"FUCK!"

He knew he couldn't outrun the phantom for long, though. But he wasn't going to just stand there and get swallowed up. He heard reincarnation was a painful process.

 _'Maybe I could get to a temple or a small shrine. I can't get it to a crowded area, though.'_

The phantom roared, breaking off his train of thought and quickly caught up to him. Cracks on the ground appeared where the phantom stomped. The human bystanders could only wonder why mysterious cracks were being made.

 _'Where are regalia when you need one?!'_

As if Tsuyu, the god of luck and fortune, heard him, he spotted an uncorrupted spirit. Perfect. It looked like a young boy, around 11 years old or so, and strangely enough, the spirit was hovering around a hospital. There were also other details, but the war god couldn't bother to take note of it in this situation. He climbed up a house, got on the roof to buy some time, and quickly went through the ritual of naming a regalia.

"You, with nowhere to go and-" There was a split second pause when he jumped to avoid the phantom trying to kill him, "cannot pass on, I'll give you a place TO STAY," He kicked away the phantom's 'head' and jumped onto the telephone line. "My name is Katsuki. I will make you my servant with the alias,"

Crap, what was he supposed to name him?

"Shouto. Obey my order and become my shinki. ThyvesselbeShou!" He quickly traced the kanji needed for the name.

"COME, SHOUKI!"

The uncorrupted spirit seemed to glow, and then it transformed. For a second, it was too bright to see what was happening, and then there was a white machine gun marked with what looked like red squares in Bakugou's hands.

A rare smile graced his face. At least one decent thing happened today.

* * *

 **A/N**

Okay so I googled some shit. And in Noragami, the names for their human form are in kunyomi? or something. And the names for their vessel/object/weapon/whatever they turn out to be are the characters, but pronounced in onyomi? Anyway I had no idea what onyomi is, there was no onyomi translator anywhere, so I'm just bullshitting the names with my good old friend Google.

\- And also, the Shou in Shouto's name means small. Bakugou is a terrible namer. I could have gave him a better name, since Shou means a LOT of things in Japanese... but... nah.

\- Normally, the last part in their name, (in this case, -to) is like a surname the gods give them.

-All Mineta haters, relax. He isn't going to be in this fic. He has too much sin. Just picture him as one of those purple phantoms or something.

\- For some reason, in Noragami, all vessel names end in -ki. I'm just rolling with it at this point.

\- I made Asui Tsuyu the goddess of luck because I heard frogs were lucky.

\- I am so sorry if I did something wrong with the Japanese names.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: This fanfiction is mine. BNHA isn't. Noragami isn't.

* * *

Bakugo swiftly turned around to shoot the monster, who was only a few yards away. It groaned from the bright light, but quickly recovered and was crawling towards him. He blindly felt around to get a hold on the trigger, not wanting to take his eyes off the phantom creeping towards him and hoped the regalia came with bullets of some sort.

It did. So he unleashed all hell on that purple mess.

The phantom screamed, then exploded. Its remains faded away.

"Revert, Shouki."

And then he got the memories.

* * *

 _Screaming. There was lots of screaming and broken, stifled sobs._

 _A hulking form pushing another one down. One red, one white._

 _Things got more blurry. He wasn't sure if it was the tears._

 _The sound of the judge's gavel echoed throughout the courtroom._

 _He loaned books on psychology, so she could be better._

 _Those eyes were blank and and her face held an expression of fear and desperation._

* * *

For a moment, he almost couldn't breathe. He was a god who had been here for centuries, he had seen worse, but... It just wasn't something one could truly get used to.

And now there was a weird looking boy in front of him, with a thin white t-shirt and shorts that looked like they were made of the same material. The kanji for 'shou' was on the side of his neck, almost as if it was a permanent tattoo. He had one side of his hair red and another white, with mismatching eyes. Eyes that were currently staring at him with a lost look.

"Who are you?"

"..." Well this was awkward. "I am a god." He quickly added, "Of war. And you are now a Regalia. You will serve me."

"What?"

Bakugo couldn't take the awkwardness of the situation anymore. It was starting to sound like a messed up RPG game.

"Are you deaf or something kid? I said I was a god and you are here to serve me!" He snapped.

"My name's not kid. My name is-" He stopped. "My name..."

"It's Shouto."

"No, it isn't... I know it's..." Crap. Regalia can't think about this, or else.

"Well I'm calling you Shouto. Deal with it. Now stop doing whatever you are doing, and come with me, unless you want to stand here all day."

The boy was looking up, almost as if he was contemplating something. Then he looked at the so called 'god', and silently followed him.

* * *

10 minutes into the walk, and

"What happened to my memories?"

"..."

"Hey, mister, I didn't catch your name."

"Bakugo. Katsuki Bakugo."

"Mister B-"

"No nicknames."

"O-oh okay."

"Mister Bakugo, you didn't say what happened to my memories."

"...What makes you think I know?"

"You didn't answer the first time, and you said I had to serve you. That means you have to know something about me, unless you're one of those shady men."

Might as well come clean. Lying to someone who was supposed to serve you wouldn't make a good impression. Nor would having them think you are a kidnapper be good.

"Why can't I remember anything?"

"Kid, you're dead."

"That's impossible."

"That's how you can notice a god like me. Normal people wouldn't even give me a second glance, or just think we are random strangers. Normal mortals wouldn't pay attention to us."

Shouto went silent for a few minutes. He stared at his hands. Then, on a whim, curled his fingers to form a fist, and lightly punched the wall of the building next to him. His fingers didn't phase through, and he felt pain from the hit.

"Mister Bakugo, are you sure I'm dead?"

"Kid, I heard that. Stop punching walls. The only thing that's keeping you from being a ghost and phantom chow is the name I gave you." Bakugou grumbled while still walking ahead, not bothering to check if he was alright.

Sensing his doubt, he continued, "You will not age, and even though you can feel human sensations like hunger, you won't die from natural causes."

Shouto had no choice but to believe in his words. Where else would he go?

* * *

"Why do you live in a temple."

"Not anymore, kid."

"Didn't you say you called me Shouto?"

"I only call people by their name if I want to. Now help me pack this up, _kid._ "

The two were currently carrying trash bags filled with their stuff.

"You also said I had to serve you. What do you mean by that?"

Bakugo rang a bell so the hotel receptionist could focus on them. She just handed a card to duo and continued talking on the phone.

* * *

"Remember that purple blob?" They were currently on their separate beds, with Bakugo channel-surfing and looking at each show with disinterest. A large mirror hung from one of the walls, and the entire room was painted some weird abstract mixture of yellow, red, and blue.

"Not really."

And as if on cue, a giant purple wolf phased through the walls of the hotel room. Poor kid looked like he was going to piss his pants. Bakugo put down the remote, as if purple monsters were a normal thing, and dusted off his jeans.

"Phantoms can only be killed by Regalia."

"I have to kill that thing?"

"Not exactly."

"What do you mean, not-"

"COME, SHOUKI!"

And instead of a boy, there was now a machine gun.

 _"Am I even a human now?"_ Shouto was in some weird white space, but he could still see what was happening outside.

"No, you are a Regalia and you gotta serve me as your god! Now you better aim right or you're dead, kid."

 _"How is that even possible."_

"DIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEE!" He fired several bullets into its general direction. They all missed.

"AIM PROPERLY!"

 _"Isn't that your job? How can I-"_

"DO I LOOK LIKE SOME BABYSITTER REGALIA TO YOU, KID! FUCKING FOCUS ON IT!" Bakugo screamed, currently doing moves that would rival those of an Olympic gymnast to evade the monster, and pressing the trigger for what felt like the twentieth time. Only two bullets hit the Phantom. The rest of the bullets just ricocheted off metal or made holes in the wall. It blended in with the abstract wall art.

 _"Umm..."_

"THAT'S MORE LIKE IT!" More bullets were hitting the phantom now, and it made a mournful howl before it exploded in a flash of light.

"Revert, Shouki."

"What in the world was that?"

"Phantoms. Spirits that are made up of negative emotion."

"If it got to us, what would happen?"

"You don't want to know, kid."

"Serving you means I have to kill more of them right? So shouldn't I know?"

"Kid, you seriously don't want to know. It's really gross." _I'm pretty sure eleven year old kids aren't supposed to know this sort of thing._

"I saw a monster explode. It can't get grosser than that."

Bakugo just grunted in frustration. He noticed a bruise-like mark on his hand and resolved to get that fixed.

"No."

"I'm not going to serve you then."

"You don't even know how to protect yourself from things like them."

"If you told me, maybe I could."

"Fine. Don't say I didn't warn you, kid. Get in the bathroom." He began to get up from the couch he was sitting on.

"Wha-"

"Do you want to know or not? I'm not getting any younger here you little shit."

Shouto's expression held a mixture of skepticism and annoyance. Then he followed Bakugo into the bathroom.

Bakugo held up his hand. The bruise colored mark appeared to have spread, and covered the skin from his fingertips to about an inch from his wrists.

"Where did you get that?"

"From that phantom."

"So you get bruised if you fight a phantom?"

"It's not a bruise, it's blight."

"Does it heal?"

"Water takes care of it. But if too much blight gets on you, an uncorrupted spirit, you will turn into a Phantom."

Shouto seemed shocked. He couldn't blame him.

"I thought you said Phantoms were spirits made of negative emotion?"

"Negative emotion. As in corruption."

"How does this exactly turn me into a phantom?" Why was he asking so much questions?

"Idiot. Use your head. If a corrupted spirit touches an UNcorrupted spirit, WHAT do you think happens?" Bakugo finished rinsing off his hand, and with a final examination, he finished inspecting it.

"You don't have to be a jerk about it mister."

"You don't have to be a dumbass about it, kid."

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Hope you guys don't have/ did well on your finals. Since it's almost Christmas break I might update more.**

 **I might update a little bit more since I have a two-week break.**

 **I hope Bakugo isn't too OOC. I'm trying to make him slightly nicer than canon because I'm pretty sure not even he cusses out eleven year olds. And some parts, he's just treating Shouto like one of those sidekicks/minions of his in the first episode of MHA.**

 **If you don't understand the AU in this, don't worry, the questions should get cleared up in the next one or two or five chapters. Maybe even ten. Or twenty. I kind of want to use Adachitoka's style of gradually world building.**

 **If you DID read the manga of Noragami, please don't ask why Shouto is named Shouto. If there are some stuff you want to discuss that contain spoilers, just PM me.**

 **For those wondering, "Shouto should've reacted more to the death thing." It's because he figures that Bakugo doesn't know how he died and he himself doesn't remember, so he's not going to worry about the gruesome details.**

 **Constructive criticism is appreciated.**


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't even know why I'm still doing these things. Habit, I guess. I feel like it kickstarts my inspiration. Well, the day I own any anime/manga is the day I start hating angst and sprout wings.

* * *

"Kid." It was currently 8:30 in the morning. "Wake up."

There was a groan, and a mumble that sounded like, "My name's not kid."

"Wake up, before I make you." Bakugo walked off into the bathroom and used the complementary toothbrushes. They had a lot to do today, and he would be damned if he lost his followers because of his laziness. He had to scout for more phantoms around the hotel, as well as shop for stuff for Shouto. His eyes narrowed into slits. Speaking of Shouto... he also had to do a few more things, as soon as possible. It was a good thing he memorized the addresses and buildings.

After he gargled and rinsed, a smirk crept up his face. He grabbed two plastic cups, filled them with cold water, and went to the beds.

"Wake up."

"Let me sleep in." The lump on the bed curled up like some mutant white maggot.

The smirk grew. "Try sleeping with this."

And then he poured the two glasses of water where he guessed Shouto's head should be. The lump shot up.

"AGH! WHAT THE-"

"You deserve it, kid. Now shut up before the damn neighbors file a noise complaint."

Shouto just stared, resembling a wet cat. His eyes twitched.

"Clean up. We have things to do."

* * *

8:45 AM

"Clothes shopping? You woke me up for this?"

"It's November. You will need it."

"Where did you even get the money."

"Offerings. Now hurry up, you're lagging behind."

"It's not like I'll die from the cold."

"Kid, stop complaining and just get in the store."

* * *

Shouto decided stores weren't so bad after all. At least, when someone else was paying for you.

"I like this." He said, trying on fuzzy light blue jacket with darker blue stripes. He even got some jeans that weren't baggy. They were warm and so soft. They didn't even have itchy tags. What was there not to like?

Bakugo took one look at him and the tag and laughed. Hard. It even drew the attention of some shoppers.

"THAT'S GIRL'S CLOTHING! AND WHY ARE YOU WEARING SKINNY JEANS!?"

Scratch that, he hated stores. Especially when Bakugo was paying for him.

"Nevermind, I'll just put it back. I'll get something else." His face was turning red from the embarrassment.

"No, we don't have time for that. Are you sure those," He gestured to the pile of discarded clothes. "Weren't good enough?"

"They didn't fit."

"Like hell they didn't. It's labeled 'preteens'."

"They don't fit. They're all too baggy. See?"

He grabbed a few articles of clothing. He compared his leg to a pant leg and the waistband of it to his hips. The difference was, if roughly estimated, six or seven centimeters. And when he put on a jacket from the pile, the clothing seemed to engulf him completely. Bakugo's face showed confusion, but then his eyes darkened and the corners of his mouth dipped down to form a scowl.

A feeling of deja vu popped up in the regalia's mind, and a instinctive fear washed over him. Did he do something wrong? Was the clothing he wanted too expensive? Was it because he was too skinny? He was about to speak up, but then Bakugo looked down at him and muttered, in the most nasty and grating tone possible,

"The clothing's all imported from America. No wonder it doesn't fit. Shouto, get the ones you want. I'm paying now. Stupid shitty store, right?" He said, clenching his fists and averting his eyes.

It sounded weirdly uncharacteristic coming from him, but the fear faded away. What was it about America that made him so angry? It was almost laughable how bipolar he was at times. Bakugo could comically rage at the store clerk for not noticing him, and then calmly pick out some complicated pamphlets with meticulous concentration, like they were the most interesting and important things in the world.

What a war god.

* * *

10:20 AM

"Why are we at this shrine again?"

"It's my shrine." Bakugo grumbled, still holding some of the bags from shopping.

"I thought we moved out of this place?"

"People put requests and wishes here, especially tourists. If you want them to believe in you, you have to grant their wishes." He walked over to a wall. Wooden plaques with words on them were hung on there. Only about a fifth of the wall was covered in the wooden plagues, though there were a few hung on the higher parts of the wall, and small clusters of plaques hanging away from the main bulk of it.

"But since when did you care about people's beliefs?"

"Millions of gods have died and didn't reincarnate because they didn't have any more followers. Now help me take these off!"

"Ok." He went over there, gathering the few other plaques that were too low for Bakugo to reach. Then he realized something.

"Gods can die?"

"I'm not telling you how I can die, brat." Bakugo's eyes skimmed over the text on the wooden plaques and furrowed his brows. Just what were the tour guides telling those people?

"Please make my grades better."

"Help my OTP win the ship wars! TEAM EDWARD FTW!"

"I want everything to turn out for the better."

"I want my dad to stop having depression."

"Please help my friend fight cancer."

"Please help me get my son back."

His eyes landed on a plaque that was dropped on the corner. He picked it up, looking at the messy, rough handwriting.

"I want you to strike my dad down with fire rain!"

He surreptitiously scratched out the name underneath the message with his fingernails, making it illegible. Shouto's voice broke the silence.

"If this is your temple, and those are wishes made to you, how exactly will you grant these wishes?"

"Just sort the ungranted wishes from the already granted ones."

"They all look the same."

"Fine. Then go out there and figure out what the tour guides are saying about me. I'm a war god, dammit. Not some sort of angel."

"..." With one last look that said 'I clearly overestimated your sanity.', Shouto walked away to the crowded areas.

Bakugo stared at the wooden plaques. Some wanted him to fight some problem of theirs, some actually wanted him to kill some people, and others were generic stuff people would wish at a fountain. He couldn't do much about the last one, but he could probably do the first two. He would decide who would get killed, though.

As he touched the plaques, he felt each person behind the wish, what they felt while wishing it, and what they thought. He memorized the locations. But some wishes had no feeling, nothing, behind it. Those people were either already dead, had their wish already granted, or didn't want the wish on there granted anymore. The variety of wishes he could grant were narrowed down to the ones fighting mental illness and assassination. The wishes that wanted him to cure physical illness were put in a spare shopping bag. He knew someone who could help him with those, if he could get back into heaven soon.

"The tour guide has been saying you are a god of battling and fighting. They," Shouto's calm, indifferent mask cracked. "Say you are a god of passion. And how you have determination, and go on about how noble and merciful you are. They clearly have never met you."

"SAY THAT TO MY FACE YOU LITTLE-"

"I just did."

"URRGH I SWEAR TO F-FRICK THAT" The rest of the words were said in some old fashioned language, and Bakugo's spitting and sputtering made it impossible to decipher. But from the tone, one could assume he was saying something that would be better off unheard.

"Mister, you're spitting all over the place."

"Just... hold these will you?" He said in an attempt to compose himself. Shouto held out his hands to grasp the bag. His pupils darted around, trying to read the characters written on the wood, but he looked up when Bakugo spoke.

"Keep those, I need them put in the hotel room." He then held up a handful of plaques. "These are the ones we need to grant."

He looked at the first one. The writing was shaky, but if he squinted, he could make out the words. It wasn't really much of a wish.

"I feel like everyone's out to get me, and I would really like it if that feeling went away."

* * *

"Midoriya-sama!" A tall, blue haired male ran in, his trademark glasses and pressed suit contrasting greatly with the comforting and relaxed atmosphere in the room. A huge desk was in one corner, and some beanbag chairs were in another corner, facing a flatscreen TV. Papers and notebooks were strewn in piles on the floor, and the trash bin was full.

The inhabitants of the room swiveled their heads from the TV to him.

"Hey, Iida, you don't have to call me that, you know. Midoriya is fine."

"Don't worry about him, Deku! For the past century, you have said that and he's still doing it. He's not

going to change anytime soon."

"Ochaco-san! It's rude and disrespectful to not address your master as one! And even if he wasn't, the fact that he is a god is enough to address him in the most formal and respectful way possible!"

"Iida... Just loosen up, will you? You're so uptight!"

"As exemplar of the God of Peace, I must be a good example to Midoriya-sama!"

Midoriya sighed. Like clockwork, they have had this conversation every week ever since Iida was his regalia. He's dealt with worse quirks, though. This was mild compared with what he had seen in his lifespan.

"Anyway," He started, in an attempt to redirect the argument. "What did you call me here for?"

"The Council has summoned you for an Issue." He could practically hear the capital letters in that sentence. He braced for the oncoming heart attack he would get in the foreseeable future and closed his eyes. Inhale. Hope nothing terrible has happened. Exhale.

"Did they mention what the issue was, Iida?"

"Regrettably, they did not disclose what it was to me. But the Council wants you as soon as possible."

He stated in a matter-of-fact attitude, while moving his arms around weirdly. Midoriya has long given up trying to decipher what they meant.

"Alright." The god of peace got up and gave himself a once-over. He was currently wearing a sweatshirt and pajama bottoms, and both were speckled in old coffee and ramen soup stains. He looked up sheepishly.

"Iida, can you please get me in something presentable? That would be great."

Ochaco ran over to the desk. She quickly gathered up some papers, trying to sort them out, eyes quickly scanning over headers to see what would be important during the meeting as Midoriya was changing. The papers she deemed important were haphazardly crammed into a folder, stray corners sticking out. Her outfit, a slightly wrinkled gray blazer and collared shirt, along with a pleated skirt, seemed suitable enough for the meeting.

"Here!" She dropped the thick folder into the suited-up Midoriya's arms.

Five minutes later, Midoriya and his two regalia burst through the meeting room, out of breath.

* * *

The trio was immediately greeted with various tones, some bordering on sarcastic to being completely casual.

"You're late." Aizawa, messenger to All Might.

"Yo wassup!" Kaminari, god of thunder and lightning.

"Free seat there!" Nedzu, god of wisdom.

"Hello, ribbit." Tsuyu, goddess of luck and commerce.

"Hello! Glad you could make it!" Momo, goddess of art and culture.

They found their seats, and the meeting began.

* * *

Politics. Of course. He had to psychoanalyze every single politician to predict what they would do. And then he had to psychoanalyze and predict how critics and the press would react. To each and every single politician. And then he had to top it all off with what felt like pages of how the effects would change the world for better or worse, while drawing diagrams showing off statistics.

Peace was never easy to attain.

* * *

He let Iida do most of the talking after the sixth hour. Not that he was a negligent god or anything, it was just that Iida looked really into it.

He's pretty sure Ochaco and the other female regalias were gossiping using pupil movements and combinations of hair flips and eyelash batting.

* * *

"And now, onto our last subject of this meeting. What exactly will we do with... the recent exile?" The current speaker, some unnamed god, said the last few words with disgust.

The statement was left with varying reactions.

Most seemed just as disgusted, but the major gods, the ones who knew Bakugo personally, were shocked. Midoriya perked up with interest. The meeting room buzzed with chatter for a few minutes until Aizawa intervened.

"He was exiled out of heaven, in hopes that he may reform his ways and to block him from the power he could get in heaven." Then his eyes narrowed.

"Why are you interested? Care to follow him?"

The minor god was silent. Some people, unknown to Midoriya, backed him up.

"Why are you endangering the populace by placing HIM closer to them?"

"What if he goes berserk?"

"I still think we should have given him a heavier sentence after what he did!" A couple of heads nodded in agreement.

Aizawa's eyes flashed dangerously at the statement.

"Bakugo will be on earth, with a high chance of being torn apart by Phantoms. He will have little to no power, and the little power he does have will be used to protect him from the phantoms, helping the populace. If he goes berserk, and I doubt he will, we will take care of him. Why would you want his punishment changed? Are you" The meeting room was still, and tension was thick in the air as Aizawa stared down on the people who nodded. Even though his voice was low, everyone heard what he was saying. "doubting his Majesty's judgement?"

'I hope Kacchan's okay.'

* * *

"THIS IS NOT OKAY!"

Bakugo landed inside that same house with Shouki. And the phantoms inside it sprung at the god.

Bakugo instinctively fired everywhere. He didn't have time to aim, he just whirled around, holding the trigger back. The screams of the phantoms penetrated the eerily quiet atmosphere of the house.

The streams of phantoms diminished after a minute or two, and Bakugo bit back a curse as he realized he was just in the abandoned kitchen area. Which meant he had to go through more rooms to find where the person was. He checked the room to make sure nothing was behind him, and tiptoed forward as to not attract more phantoms.

Lifting the machine gun in front of him, he kicked open the door. There wasn't anything in the halls except some muffled sounds, and Bakugo wondered how far gone the wisher was. Since Phantoms fed off of negative emotions and there were so many of them in one house, how was the human not dead or insane yet?

Walking a bit faster now, he stopped at the bedroom door and mentally prepared himself for what would come up.

"Better not wet yourself, kid."

 _"Stop talking to yourself, mister."_

His hand went from the machine gun to the doorknob, and turned. Swinging it open, his hand flew back to the trigger, and he looked around.

* * *

 **A/N**

 **\- So you know the clothes shopping thingy? Bakugo is actually lying with the American stuff. I'm not telling you what pissed him off though.**

 **(Hint: When a human dies, and they turn into regalia, they will look like the age they were when they died, but without scars or wounds from the death. However, I'm pretty sure stunted growth and low muscle tone and stuff lik** **e that aren't repaired in regalia form.)**

 **\- Also, on the American thingy, Bakugo meant, "The clothes came from America, everything's larger there, no wonder it doesn't fit you." Sorry if anyone took offense. I'm American, and I thought the stereotype was kind of harmless?**

 **\- Constructive criticism is always appreciated. I really hope the way I wrote the characters wasn't OOC.**


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: The day I own My Hero Academia or Noragami or both is the day I update more than once a day. Never. Both are never happening. And that's just really sad. WARNING GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED AND STUFF. I'M NOT SURE IF I SHOULD BUMP THE RATING UP BECAUSE OF IT.

* * *

Once, thanks to Bakugo's long life, he had the pleasure of experiencing the feeling of having a bucket of piss, what looked like a used tampon, vomit, and what seemed like mushy (probably a few days old) shit thrown over him while he was walking to his shrine on New Year's. And the bucket was just nasty, smelling like a two-year old garbage can had sex with a corpse flower and aborted the fetus. It even got in his eyes, on his new yukata, in his hair, and in his nose. He couldn't look at mud baths or hot showers for at least a year because of the memories. With his eyes watering, he stumbled everywhere until someone took pity on him and hosed him down.

* * *

The smell in the room he was in the doorway of strongly reminded him of that incident. Except this time, it was a dead body that was burning the hairs in his nostrils. Flies crawled all over the rotten tissue and worms tunneled into the body (He? Her? They? With how decomposed the body was, it was impossible to tell). Dried blood stained the walls and carpeted floor brown, and notes were scattered on the table. Despite the horrible stench, Bakugo chose to breathe through his nose, not wanting to accidentally inhale a fly or mold spores. Pulling a part of his shirt so it covered his nose, he advanced closer to the body.

"D-did the person..." Shouto's voice cracked on the last word.

"He obviously didn't kill himself. I only grant wishes to people who are alive."

The horrified silence in response made Bakugo realize he probably wasn't supposed to say that to a kid. Holding the gun behind his back so Shouto couldn't stare at the gory scene any longer, his red eyes studied the body for clues.

"Hey, kid, this little fuckmunch was a robber of some sort. Look, he even has a ski mask and," He tried sliding a paper closer to him using his shoe. "What looks like a contract." His foot prodded the jacket pocket of the body. Maneuvering his feet to get the object out of it, he kicked it towards himself and bent down.

It was a bottle of chloroform.

"The fuck?" He picked up the contract and read the first line.

 _I agree to give the supplier the agreed upon amount in exchange for the capture of S.H._

He skimmed over the rest of the words, seeing as they were information about 'S.H.'. But his eyes lingered over the words 'trade' and 'blackmail'

And suddenly, everything made sense.

"Kid, this piece of crap is a trafficker. A retarded, amateur one, but still a trafficker. Bastard deserves to get killed by his victims, turned into a Phantom, and killed a second time by me." He waited for a response.

"The guy we were supposed to help killed this fucknugget." He said, trying to clarify.

The silence in the house seemed almost suffocating. The ticking of the clock hanging on the wall made the silence even worse. But then a small, almost inaudible whisper attempted to break it.

"Can I get out?"

Wordlessly, he agreed, turning and walking out the door, but not before taking a one last look at the papers. He internally debated whether or not he should call the cops, but decided against it. The longer the body decomposed, the less evidence there was pointing to 'S.H' being the killer. If it stayed there long enough, maybe the rats would eat the entire body.

* * *

"Hey, kid. KID! You awake, or did the flies get to your brain?"

Shouto's eyes quickly darted to Bakugo. And then he looked away.

"Obviously."

The two were currently in a nearby park, trying to clear their lungs from the air in that house.

"Look kid, it looks pretty fucking disgusting, but it's my job. Don't hurl everytime you see one."

Shouto just gave an absent minded nod. His eyes focused on the grass, trying to forget what just happened.

It was green. Why was grass green. Why was the dirt underneath brown. Did it like being brown.

He then saw a worm burrowing into the dirt, and shuddered.

Narrowing his eyes in frustration, Bakugo realized that nothing he could say or do would change anything. Kid seemed out of it.

"Hey, you feel up to granting more wishes? Don't get emo on me, half-and-half."

"Half and... half?"

* * *

Midoriya watched the scene before him with unease. It shouldn't have taken an hour to talk about a single exile. But then again, Kacchan wasn't just anyone. His fingers idly clicked his pen, itching to pick up some fallen papers.

"Of course I'm not doubting the emperor!" The nameless god babbled, sweating bullets. "I'm simply... Requestingthatwereconsiderthepunishme..." The rest of it was incomprehensible. Midoriya could almost feel the second-hand embarrassment. Snickers echoed in the meeting room.

Standing in front of the god, Aizawa kept his face blank and his tone monotonous.

"Why does a god like you, with no connection to Bakugo Katsuki whatsoever, want a more severe sentence for him?"

"Well-"

"Don't give me bullshit. Let me guess, pettiness? A chance to get rid of him forever? Or maybe," He paused to glance at the god. "Maybe, you want to act like you're important. Is that it? You want to act like you actually have a hand in this, act like you could do something important. And you figure Bakugo is the best way to do so?"

And this was the part, Midoriya thought. This was the part when outrage occurs, from someone, something, some idea. The pen in his hand clicked faster. The unnamed god looked like he wanted to throw his chair at Aizawa.

"OH C'MON! HE KILLED REGALIAS! HE SLAUGHTERED OURS! OI KAYO! REMEMBER KAORU? DON'T YOU WANT TO BRING HIM TO JUSTICE?"

"SHUT UP! DON'T DRAG HIM INTO THIS!"

"THAT'S JUST DIRTY!"

"HELL YEA! AVENGE HIM, AND ALL THOSE WAR VICTIMS!"

"GIVING HIM A VACATION ON EARTH ISN'T FAIR!"

Momo opened her mouth to speak, but couldn't be heard through the sheer amount of noise in the meeting room.

It was at this moment Midoriya decided to intervene. The pen, along with some more loose leaf notes, fell to the ground.

"Come, Saki." In the ruckus, his hand extended to Ochaco.

In his hands, now covered with white gloves, was a pink and white megaphone.

"Everyone. Please be civil, do not bring the dead into your ambitions, and please don't yell over each other. Now, Momo, you wanted to say something?"

Her face held uneasiness.

"With all respect, what Bakugo did may have been inexcusable, however, being punished even further will result in more casualties, as he isn't the type to stand down. He will revolt, and he will rage. But at the same time, he isn't a war god for nothing. It is likely he will kill other people, especially if they vex him. I propose a compromise. We send someone to track him, to monitor him. If it is proven that he will cause destruction, considerable measures will be taken."

"Not bad."

"If it reassures you, ribbit."

"Stalking's kind of unmanly, though."

"Whatever, I'm not willing to risk it."

Aizawa just sighed for what seemed like the fiftieth time.

"Great. Momo, since you offered, you will do it."

"W-what? Sir, I am biased and I have no-"

"Alright. It's settled. Meeting's over. Satisfied?" He stared blankly at everyone the way one might look at a child throwing a tantrum. Most of them quickly filed out to escape from his gaze.

"Momo, you will be dispatched to the shrine closest to the estimated location of Bakugo. Modern art these days needs to be improved, anyway. Bring a only a few regalias, so you don't attract attention. If Bakugo is found causing... something, you alert us. Do not fight him."

Midoriya was bent down underneath the table, trying to gather up his scattered papers. Overhearing the news, his head jerked up and collided with the conference room table. He wasn't sure if he should be relieved or worried. Last time he checked, Momo didn't seem to hold any ill will over... anyone, really. But Bakugo used to accidentally burn some of her art at times. She could hold a grudge, but she wouldn't sabotageanythingwouldshe?Shealsowasn'tweak,butupagainstBakugo,however...Thenagain,Kacchanwouldn'thaveenoughsocialskillstokeeparegaliaforlong,Momohavingplentyofthose,willbeabletooverpowerkacchan. Canherregaliafighthis?Ohgodwhatifhekillsoneofhersandwegetaseconddarkage?Thatwouldcause..."

"Midoriya, you needn't worry about me."

"Midoriya, get out."

"Y-yes sir!"

* * *

A normal, gray, run-of-the mill car pulled up beside the curb and several figures stepped out. Their striking appearances contrasted greatly with the car, since most of them wore outfits that belonged on some catwalk. Or at the very least, on some fashion magazine. Their eyes shone in a way that seemed almost inhuman.

"Aoyama, Jirou, this is my newest shrine!" Despite carrying an enormous leather suitcase and having designer sunglasses obscuring her face, Momo's optimism practically emanated from her face.

"Why is it at a park?" Jirou, who was

" _Mesdames avez-vous un miroir?_ "

"We're in Japan, stop speaking that pretentious language of yours."

"Aoyama, what do you need a mirror for?"

"I must check my appearance. The humidity is ruining my hair!"

"You have got to be kidding me."

* * *

 **A/N**

 **I originally had like, 200 more words, but I didn't save them. And I didn't bother writing more. Anyway, I hope nothing in here's too OOC, or something like that. As of now, I planned out some parts of this story, and some parts are still blank. But I know for sure how it will end. :)**

 **So remember how in the notes I said regalia weapon names were in onyomi? FINALLY found an onyomi translator.**

 **So since Ochaco's name means 'tea child' or something, I shortened it to 'tea' and translator said it could be pronounced (spelled?) cha- or sa-. I thought of her being a megaphone because Midoriya is the god of peace, but I honestly don't think he can pull the shonen protagonist pep talk stuff and automatically convert masses of people in MY fanfiction. Maybe. So Ochaco is there, and she can't do the floaty stuff. It's not very specific, but Ochaco has a calming effect in her vessel form. Maybe it's the pink color (Drunk-tank pink has been used to calm down prison inmates). She can also work as a slight word filter, and make Midoriya sound confident. Without it, not a lot of people would listen to him. Or his ideals wouldn't stick as much.**

 **I'm not sure what exactly are the weapon limits in Noragami because they have regalia that can possess their user and give them awesome kung-fu skills, one that can turn into a goddamn dragon made out of lightning, one that can turn into a lion, and one that can turn into a earring and navigate/guide/extend weapon range of other regalias. So I guess Ochaco's ability isn't too farfetched. I hope.**

 ** _Mesdames avez-vous un miroir?:_ Ladies do you have a mirror? _(I had to use Google translate for this, so I'm not sure how accurate this is.)_**

 **Constructive criticism is always welcome. Also, should I bump up the rating or is it fine the way it is?**


End file.
